The passengers, of whom there were only about a dozen, had soon made friends with each other—that is all but the “mysterious one,” as Tom still thought of him,—and they all did what they could to make the time pass pleasantly.
Tom’s sad quest became known to all and he received much sympathy, while Mr. Case told stories of shipwrecks in which persons, believed for a long time to be lost, had finally been found. This comforted our hero very much.
“How anyone can remain below on such a night as this I can’t see!” once exclaimed a Mrs. Pendleton, who was taking the trip with her daughter. “Such a lovely moon, and such a calm sea! And yet, I understand, Mr. Fairfield,” she said to Tom, “that there is a gentleman on board who hasn’t yet been out of his stateroom—who takes all his meals there.”
“Yes,” replied Tom. Nearly all the passengers were out on deck that evening, enjoying the calm, peaceful night, and looking at the phosphorescent sea, silvered by the moon. “I don’t know why he stays below unless it is that he is very ill.”
“Perhaps no one has invited him out,” suggested Mrs. Pendleton, who was quite impulsive. “Let’s go, you and I, Mr. Fairfield.”
“Oh, no, mamma!” exclaimed her daughter. “Perhaps he has good reasons for being quiet. It is none of our affair.”
“But we ought to make it our affair to see that he enjoys the best part of the trip,” insisted her mother. “I’m going to get him out.”
“No, you must not!” her daughter insisted. “Oh, mamma, you do the strangest things!” and she laughed. “I have to be watching her all the while,” she added with a laugh, to the others. “She has no regard for conventionality.”
“There’s no sense in it,” insisted the elder lady. “But I’ll not go if you don’t want me to. There, a big fish just jumped up!” she exclaimed, as there came a splash in the water.